


One Hard Night

by yuzuki_chan



Series: The Cases of Marshalwitch Hermione Granger [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (if you squint), Gen, Mild Language, Possible Flirtation, Post-Hogwarts, Sleep Deprived Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 17:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9558548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuzuki_chan/pseuds/yuzuki_chan
Summary: Investigator Chief Marshalwitch Hermione Granger is on the case. This case, the previous one, and, inevitably, the next one. But she will not let Draco Malfoy get anywhere near to being on hers. He will not sass her tonight, she is too damn tired.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a request for more Marshalwitch Granger, who featured in [The Deceit of Delusion](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9557318/). While this is not formally a precursor story, it exists in the same universe and could be interpreted as such.

It was another late night on the beat. No rest for the weary, as cliché and trite as it got, but there was truth in it. This was Hermione's third straight night—morning? She couldn't keep it straight any more—out in the streets of London.

Somehow she had ended up being the only Investigation Department officer on duty over the Christmas break. Even the Reeves had a reprieve. Recent labour negotiations had won them shifts no longer than 16 hours. The wankers; why didn't her trade union ever get her a decent work schedule? Honestly, it was as if the wizarding world was stuck pre-Thatcher.

Tonight was a Writ 203, unexplained wizard death, in Highgate. The location was logistically close enough to her Shoreditch flat to fly instead of Apparating, but she was too bloody tired to keep a broom in the air. So instead, Hermione stepped off of her veranda and walked down to the end of Witanhurst Lane without breaking stride, despite the twisting, nauseating pop in between. Bugger protocol.

As she walked up to the scene, pulling her blue cloak and badge over her pyjamas, Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. She was seriously rethinking her promotion to Chief Marshalwitch. Being an Investigator, tucked in warm and sleeping in bed, might have been the better option.

Parting the crime scene barrier with her wand, she took in the two Reeves and Crime Scene Alchemist already there.

'What do we have?'

'Curse to the chest,' said Senior Reeve Lapidus, leading Hermione to the body on the street. 'Doesn't seem to be an Unforgivable, but it was definitely a direct hit.'

'Spellscars are radiating outward through the major arteries,' Dennis Creevey took over, opening the victim's shirt to point out the forensics. 'I'd guess it was a Bloodcurdling Curse, but I'll know more when I get back to the laboratory.'

'Do you have a time of death?'

Dennis pulled up his sleeve to look at his astrolabium watch and muttered quickly to himself.

'Between 1:17 and 2:09. Sorry I can't be more precise. My lunar hand is stuck on Gemini.'

'No problem. Any defensive signs?' Hermione turned to the Junior Reeve, Fernsby, who was holding the victim’s wand.

'Priori Incantantem revealed the last spell cast was a Refilling Charm. So it appears unlikely.’

‘Anything we can ID him with?’ she asked, looking down at the wizard on the tarmac as Dennis started taking pictures of the scene.

‘Me.’

Hermione saw the cloaked figure out of the corner of her eye and moved to quickly shield the body from any Muggle eyes.

'Fernsby, get him back across the line and Obliviate him! How’d he even get inside?’

'Er, Mum,' the Junior Reeve said, his hesitation drawing her attention, 'he has a wand. Not a Muggle.'

A second look at the intruder and she wanted to murder someone herself.

'Malfoy,' she said, exasperated.

'Granger,' he said, with a slight nod of the head. 'I didn't know you were a blue robe.'

'Investigator Chief Marshalwitch,' she said, pinching her nose again and closing her eyes.

'You know I've always had quite the copper fetish.'

Hermione opened her eyes and stared directly into Malfoy’s obnoxious smirk. The wink was overkill, though. She crossed her arms and settled into her best interrogation stance.

‘What are you doing here? Bed all the slags in Wiltshire?’

‘I moved out of the Manor. My flat’s up the lane.’

‘We don’t have a record of any wizards in the area.’

‘I only recently moved.’

‘And you would move to Highgate.’

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed at her. ‘What does that mean?’

‘That Highgate is for the rich, Malfoy,' said Hermione, steeling herself against rolling her eyes. 'Now what are you doing here?’

‘I was just heading home, and I saw the commotion and came to investigate.’ His eyebrow twitched on the last word and Hermione wanted to haul his arse in as a suspect simply for being a prat.

‘So you know the victim?’

‘Geoffrey de Monfriet. French businessman.’

‘In the business of what?’ Hermione asked, tapping her fingers along her elbow.

This conversation was getting on her nerves, and all she wanted to do was go back to bed. Although she hadn’t entirely ruled out Malfoy’s involvement, especially with coincidences this convenient, the information he was offering was useful. If she could verify it—in the morning, she coddled herself—she might actually owe him one.

‘Import, export, Banishing. A little bit of everything, I guess,’ Malfoy said with a shrug.

‘So a Malfoy cousin essentially?’

Hermione wanted to bite her tongue. Antagonizing the informant was never good for a first line of questioning. But she was so bloody tired, and it was Malfoy, so she hardly cared.

Luckily, he decided to laugh instead.

‘As a mater of fact, quite distantly. Only reason I recognized him. I didn’t even know he was on this side of the Channel.’

Plausible enough, she thought wearily, but she’d check with the Paris bureau in the morning. Time to wrap this up.

‘Alright, thank you, Malfoy. And where were you between 1 AM and 2:30?’

‘If you must know, getting pissed at the Gatehouse. Alone, aside from the bartender that is. No slags in sight, Granger. I know how you disapprove of them.’

Hermione wanted slap the lecherous smirk off his face. He was clearly more knackered than he knew if he was making a go at her. He was lucky when Dennis called over to say he was ready to Portkey back to St Mungo’s.

‘Well, thank you, Malfoy. The Investigation Department will be following up tomorrow by owl. And please do update your records with the Floo Network.’

‘Yes, Mum. Whatever you say.’

She watched as he gave her a salute and a wink before swaggering back up the street. Hermione shook her head and made a mental note to send Lapidus and Fernsby to check the alibi before they went home. They got a minimum eight-hour break after all. Fucking trade unions.

Hermione activated a Portkey for Dennis, dismissed the Reeves, and Apparated midair into her bedroom, dropping her cloak on the floor as she fell face-first into her pillow.

She was so entirely not looking forward to doing the paperwork for this one in the morning. All of the 3 hours away that it was. 


End file.
